


No Feathers to Fly

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Llud doesn't get the answer he expected......</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Feathers to Fly

Last night, when Olwen and I were cuddling in the afterglow of passion, she said something that has given me pause. She kissed my mouth, nuzzled my bare shoulder, settled into the crook of my good arm and then whispered……. “Llud my darling, you are the love of my life.”

 

Now, very nice sentiment you may suppose and so it certainly was. Therefore, what in the bloody name of Jupiter is this silly old fool making a fuss over? Well, not a fuss exactly – it has simply got me thinking, that’s all, thinking and pondering.

 

If you would have ever asked me, I would have said that Perry was the great love of Olwen’s life. A good man and a courageous warrior, a wonderful husband and father. True, it was not a love match, but a betrothal arranged by their families. Yet he and Olwen were happy, grew together, had several sons and daughters.

 

However, last night, up in her hut, she made her declaration – and it has left me pensive……..

 

Of course, Olwen is not the love of my life, no matter how deeply and sincerely I do really love her. There it is, sad perhaps but true. And neither was Cerys or Lenni’s mother Ana.

 

This morning, in fact, I am sitting with the love of my life’s younger, copper-haired grandson in my lap. Baden, a few weeks old now, who has such a look of Travon. I am watching as his mother prepares to berate his father over some perceived transgression –a censure which Arthur immediately diffuses with a wrinkling of Vala’s nose and a mischievous wink from Vala’s midnight-blue eyes. Making Rowena laugh and forget all about loading him with reproaches. Making me reflect that being allowed to live a good portion of your life with the love of it, must be miraculous beyond measure……….

 

Which is what brings me to my decision. For so many years, I have shied away from the issue because Vala and I were never given the chance……..and I have maintained that if not her, then no-one ever again……… But, perhaps I have been mistaken. Olwen and I have shared our lives for well over a decade now. Probably people think it strange that the matter has never been raised, since there has never been any real reason for procrastination………..

 

All at once though, it seems ludicrous that I have tarried for so long. I get to my feet and hand Baden to Rowena. “I will back shortly. I just have to…….” And without finishing the sentence, I walk out of the longhouse and go to ask Olwen to marry me.

 

She says no. Regretfully, a little sadly, but emphatically no. “Llud my dearest, do not think that I’m not flattered or that I don’t love you to the stars and back. It’s simply that I’m happy exactly the way things are now. You have your family and I have mine. We both have a crowd of children and grandchildren. Besides, since my daughters were widowed last year at Baden Hill, they have needed so much of my help. I may be a stubborn old woman but I don’t want anything to change – and perhaps, I’m a coward, yet I don’t want to take any risks that something might. But thank you so much for asking. It only makes me love you more if that were possible.”

 

Olwen takes a step forward, reaches up to kiss me – and stupidly, I feel hot tears stinging behind my eyes. I had been so sure that her answer would be yes……. Without warning, I am flooded by searing hurt and pique. Angrily swishing my cloak, I turn around and stalk back outside, leaving her with a startled stricken expression, ignoring her repeated crying of my name………

 

Arthur is walking down toward the palisade, Baden in his arms, raven-haired Ren, Kai’s youngest, tottering ahead in laughing flurries and bounds. He is just a year old now and still unsteady on his feet. I can see where they are headed – beside the river where Kai and his eldest, Theo, are practising sword play. As I watch, Ren takes off on a lurching run, chuckling with delight, making a beeline for his father and brother.

 

Annoyed, I stride past Arthur and snatch Ren up onto my hip. “You should be more careful. He might have tumbled into the water.” Those shrewd blue eyes give me an appraising look. “You know very well that I wouldn’t let him tumble anywhere. What’s wrong Llud?” I turn my gaze to Kai and Theo who are parrying with dazzling speed, my grandson managing to hold his own until Kai lunges sharply to the right and Theo’s sword flies into the blue air. Kai cuffs his son gently and Theo ruefully laughs. “Next time Daddy…..”

 

Arthur is still gazing obdurately at me, expecting a reply. “Nothing is wrong Arthur. I am simply older and more cautious than you.” I ruffle Theo’s hair. “That was well done. I’ll show you something to countermand your father’s trickiness tomorrow.” Still, I see the way Arthur grimaces at Kai and then motions toward me. Silently telling his brother to mind my ill temper. And that simply irritates me more. Can’t a man be vexed for once without his sons making exasperated faces? If I think of all their nonsense that I have weathered…….

 

“Here.” I pass Ren across to Kai. “I need to go up to the top pastures and check those new cattle that Yorath sent. I’ll be back for supper.” As I walk away – not fooling anyone, least of all myself – Baden regards me, from over Arthur’s shoulder, with Travon’s steady, knowing gaze. Perhaps too all-knowing……

 

Arthur’s first father, my best friend, would have told me stoutly that I am being a moonsick idiot – and no doubt he would have been right. Yet, nothing more infuriating than someone who is sensible, telling you that you are behaving imprudently. I stride on more firmly, trying to ignore the ghostly echo of Travon’s insightful laughter…….

 

And so it remains, unchanging, for a good week. I refuse to examine Olwen’s reasoning any further, preferring to wallow in resentment, carefully avoiding her hut and sleeping every night in the longhouse bedroom. Nothing that unusual there lately – Olwen has one of her widowed daughters and a clutch of demanding grandchildren living with her now. Subsequently, opportunities have been limited.

 

But one day, I come unexpectedly into the longhouse and find Olwen sitting there, talking to Lenni. Seeing me, she gets hurriedly to her feet and hastens outside. I can’t be sure but I think she might have been crying……….

 

Every instinct screams that I should follow her and make redress for my obstinate absurdity. But there is no simpleton like an old simpleton…… Later that night Lenni gestures quietly to me. “Is there anything you want to speak about?” I brush my lips across the top of her dark head. “No, everything is alright. It will resolve itself in time – a lesson you don’t learn by my age at your own peril.” Lenni smiles a little uncertainly, goes to sign something else – but we are interrupted by Kai who has had just a little too much mead.

 

“Beautiful girl, come here, we need you to settle this argument between Arthur and me. You’ll remember who won that Beltane horse race, the summer you were sixteen. You always remember everything…….” And so she does, where Kai is concerned. Laughing, she goes over to tell him that she is very sorry, it was certainly Arthur, by an audacious equine nose. I take the chance to slip away to bed, chewing on my lip, telling myself that Olwen’s eyes were only glistening from the firelight’s glow……

 

Then the very next afternoon, fate decides that even old lamebrains need a good kick in the rear sometimes……

 

Coming in from the fields, Rowena tells me that Kai and Arthur want me in the stables. Kai’s horse is limping. They would like my opinion. When I enter the dusky building, with its wonderful familiar scents of oats and straw and horse-flesh, my sons are bent over the black horse, its hoof resting on Kai’s knee.

 

As I quietly approach, I see Kai’s fingers brush against Arthur’s……..Arthur’s answering shiver……..Kai’s quick smile that shimmers with love brighter than the Starry Plough in the night sky………

 

And suddenly I know………All these years, I have been dwelling, cheek by jowl, with the deepest, most powerful love of all - a love for which there can be no public acknowledgements, a love no less wondrous or enduring because it must remain heart bound. It has never required patent approval or recognized vows. It simply is………..

 

Love that is all: all there needs to be – all there must be – all that tells us that we don’t need feathers to fly………

 

There I have been, daft old dullard that I am, rashly trying to label and reason and vindicate – instead of just being and feeling……

 

The tears swell up in my throat – of self-pity, of gratitude, of relief. Deliberately I swallow and step on a thin stick that gives a loud crack. Arthur and Kai look up, smiling, and I bustle forward, concealing my emotion with practicality. “Alright boys, I’m here now……let someone who really knows what he’s doing look at that poor animal.”

 

So, in the late afternoon, with Kai’s horse standing straight again, I do what must be done. Putting off Luc and Cedric who have been promised a visit to choose one of Tugram’s new hunting pups – “Yes, I’m sorry but we will go tomorrow. I give you better than a promise – I pledge you my word as a grandfather” – I collect my granddaughters and take them along the edges of the forest. Needs must, but I am still a senior warrior of this village, Arthur’s lieutenant, and there are some things…….

 

At any rate, Kaitlin, Maeve and Shannyn have a lively time accumulating a huge bunch of flowers – all hues of the rainbow, sweet-smelling, brimming with hope. So we are both satisfied – the girls, with the results of their excursion and me, because I have gotten what I require without compromising my dignity. A grandfather overseeing such activities is one matter; a silver-handed soldier bending down to pick violets and daisies is quite another.

 

Of course, Kai and Arthur realise what I am up to straight away when that enormous bouquet is deposited beside the longhouse doors, shrouded in linen; when I change into my best tunic and breeches right after supper; when I shave for a second time that day and surreptitiously splash on some of the aromatic balm they keep beside the razors. Something I have never felt the need to do before, always regarding it as rather fancy flummery.

 

In fact, when I march from the bedroom, to the outer doors, Kai gives a devilish wolf-whistle, a huge grin on his face. In retaliation, Lenni delivers a sound smack. “Don’t you dare. It’s your father’s business, not ours.” Baden gazes at me again from over Arthur’s shoulder, yet tonight he is merely a sleepy contented baby, no ghosts lurking.

 

Somehow Arthur and Kai do manage to studiously avoid each other’s eyes, until I am outside, the flowers concealed under my cloak. But then I hear their roaring laughter, not mocking, simply jubilant – and Rowena’s amused rejoinder. “Well, I think it’s lovely that he’s so romantic. Olwen’s a lucky woman……”

 

I can only pray she still thinks so too……. Holding my breath, I knock softly on her wicker door. From inside I can hear the boisterous voices of children, Olwen’s admonitory warning, another clamorous shout. Suddenly the door flies open and there she is – only a few feet away, my beauteous Olwen…….

 

We stand looking at each other for a moment, she taking in my rarely-worn best tunic, the flowers, no doubt sniffing my sons’ fragrant lotion. Then she bites her lip, turns back inside to fetch her cape, calling over her shoulder to her daughter. “Cristie, I’m just stepping outside for a moment with Llud. We might take a short stroll. Won’t be long.” And then the door is closed, my lips are in her hair, the flowers crushed between us, and we are holding each other like we will never ever let go…….

 

In a few days there is to be a wedding and a new hut for the young couple has been recently built at the back of the village. That is where we go, stumbling in the moonlight, whispering fragments of fervent apologies, hungry and hollow and hankering like the rawest boy and girl……

 

I can feel my rigid cock straining against the wool of my breeches, see Olwen smiling tenderly at my blatant arousal. Coiling her magnificent naked body against mine like an exotic wanton animal, languidly easing herself on top of me, spreading her legs wide over me. Her breath is hot on my neck as she kisses my cheek, then fiercely on my mouth, our tongues vehemently encircling.

 

She pushes herself deliberately toward my rearing prick, franticly pulling aside my breeches, straddling me, grinning as I press back against her. Olwen takes my good hand and guides it downwards – through the springy curls of her brown bush, across her soft warm intimate folds, my fingers bathing in the juices of her wet entry. Rolling herself against my hand, breathlessly moaning, increasing her momentum as my fingers rub and weave.

 

With a groan of bliss, I plunge my famished tongue into Olwen’s moist opening, licking from it to her hard swollen sugar almond in a serpentine line, swirling and swooshing. Her whimpers are becoming high-pitched, my tongue coated with her pearly fluids.

 

I spider my hand around her smooth round breasts, letting my outstretched fingers glide across each one, gently squeezing and massaging her pink pendant nipples. Olwen squirms, scrolling her hips, rippling over my aching shaft.

 

Once more, she teasingly kisses my neck, whispering down my chest, slithering and nipping. Then she lovingly kisses my straining bulge, sensuously kneading my throbbing balls with her thumbs, gripping the base of my burgeoning girth, stroking me slowly up and down.

 

My body rocks and pulses, overwhelmed by rapture, her ripe mouth only inches from the head of my glistening cock. Smiling, she licks it, twisting her tongue down my length, humming with pleasure. I am aware of my body cresting toward the inevitable, powerful spasms flowing and mounting, almost torturous in their exquisite intensity.

 

Suddenly I thrust my burning prick toward Olwen’s honey soft hole, sliding and rubbing it around her chestnut spirals. Eyes shining with love, she lowers herself on to me, impaling herself on my bucking manhood, accepting me completely inside her wet warmth.

 

We arch and bow, she telling me breathlessly to thrust over and over, ram my cock into her again and again so that my turgid prick rubs her bloated sugar almond with each delirious onslaught.

 

Rising, crowning, surging, ridging…….My salty grunts engulf, Olwen’s wave-wracked body braces - and together we plummet…….

 

When we are all sleepy and warm, it is wonderful beyond words, and we are certain that this is how it must be again forever, unchanging, I realise that we are actually not the first couple to……..christen this lovely pile of fleecy sheepskins. Olwen is lying peacefully, eyes closed, while mine rove contentedly about the newly hewn room. Then I spy something twinkling among the freshly laid rushes.

 

One of the smaller silver studs from Arthur’s brown tunic. He was wearing it yesterday but not during the last week, while he helped work on the hut. And Rowena spent yesterday with Lenni making preserves – I should know, since I was there, coring apples and watching the babies. So………

 

I sigh happily and kiss Olwen’s hair. My miraculous sons. Kai’s elated grin last night…. Tomorrow I will simply have to drop the stud discreetly on the longhouse floor and pretend to find it a little later. “Look Arthur, this must have worked loose, you’d better give it to Rowena for fixing…….”


End file.
